


Another One Bites The Dust

by blueticked



Series: Out of Moonlight [1]
Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood, Vampires, Violence, Zouchies, non-permanent minecraft death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:01:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27229288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueticked/pseuds/blueticked
Summary: The sun was setting. Any moment now, a hermit will sleep the night away. Zedaph was counting on it.Why wasn't anyone going to bed?WARNING for descriptions of blood, killing and (non-permanent) death.
Series: Out of Moonlight [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1652413
Comments: 18
Kudos: 75





	Another One Bites The Dust

**Author's Note:**

> ["I'm not Zedaph; no, he died." - Death, 29 Oct 2018](https://youtu.be/_xC2Uv5Q11k)

The sun was setting, sky blazed in an orange light. Any moment now, someone would go to bed and skip the night away.

Zedaph hummed a distracted tune to himself as he reached into the chest for more comparators. They had been working on this contraption for a few weeks now, days flying by quickly with nights being skipped. He was a little tired, to be honest, but Tango didn't seem to be stopping anytime soon and Impulse had powered through. An insistent headache has started to hammer at his thoughts, but Zedaph didn't want to be the one asking to take a break.

"How many comparators do you need again?" Zedaph called over his shoulder, hugging five or so in his arms. "Anything else?"

"Torches!" Tango shouted back, his voice tight in concentration and frustration. Zedaph reached for the redstone torches - then grinned to himself and picked up regular torches instead. Tango could do with a little ribbing from him about not being specific enough. It would help to ease some of the tension that had accumulated from days of non-stop broken redstone and exhaustion.

The orange sky was fading into a dark blue now. The descent of darkness upon the world was swift, covering everything in ominous shadows. Zedaph would point out how he could no longer see what was in the chest anymore… but he could, his pupils quickly adapting and dilating, sharp night vision casting the world in a new sight with a few blinks.

Zedaph shivered, both a reaction to a worldview he hadn't seen in a long time, and the cold chill of the night causing goosebumps to travel down his arms. Moonlight beamed down onto him as though it was a stage spotlight, as though everyone could see through his secrets. He closed his eyes as the headache only began to pound more strongly.

The dizziness had him swaying slightly, leaning forward, using the chest to hold himself up. His head was growing heavy, thoughts muddled, swirling around in quicksand that was sucking him under.

**_Die, and cause Death._ **

Zedaph inhaled sharply. The headache wasn’t because he was tired. It was- It was _him_ -

His stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since they first began work on the contraption. He hadn't realised how _hungry_ he was. Impulse had been chowing down on golden carrots but he… he was _**starved**_. He needed to feed.

He needed food. No. He- no. He should have some food left in his ender chest- he- _he needed **fresh food-** no he didn't-_

**_Die, and cause Death._ **

From among his muddled thoughts, a moment of clarity blossomed. The answer was so simple. _Yes._

No. He had to hold on. He had to remember.

He was Zedaph. He _**was**_ Zedaph-

_**Zedaph is dead.** _

“Need help, Zed?” Impulse suddenly asked, his voice sounding far away even though he must have been standing right next to him. Zedaph breathed in deeply- tried to calm himself and his swirling thoughts- but all he could smell was the scent of Impulse’s blood.

That sweet alluring smell. The tangy, teasing taste on his tongue. The eye-catching pulse of Impulse’s jugular just beneath his thin layer of skin. His canines were digging hard into his lower lip as they extended, ready to pounce. He couldn’t help the way his breath started to come in gasps, desperate to taste actual blood on his tongue after _so long_. Impulse must have thought he was panicking, because he placed a hand on Zedaph’s shoulder, but that only brought Impulse closer- brought Impulse’s _fresh blood_ closer-

“C- Could… Could you sleep, please?” Zedaph managed to spit out the question with great difficulty. His hands gripped the sides of the chest tightly, hunched over in an attempt to hide his extending fangs, his entire body trembling with the effort of not throwing himself onto Impulse and ripping his neck apart.

Impulse was a **friend** , not _**food**_... 

"Sleep?" Impulse laughed. "I could, but there's no point. We can't skip the blood moon night. Might as well work through it. We could definitely build a fence around our area, keep the mobs out? Wait, I'm sure I have some wood…"

Zedaph lifted his head to look at Impulse. The grin on Impulse's face faltered. His gaze dropped to Zedaph’s fangs, curling over his lips, then back up at Zedaph’s eyes.

"Zedaph, you…" Impulse pointed a trembling finger at his face.

"Blood moon?" Zedaph echoed.

Impulse swallowed and responded with a single nod.

"Run," Zedaph immediately commanded, digging his fingers deeper into the sides of the chest, the wood beginning to splinter beneath his grip.

How could he have forgotten? How could he have let the time slip by him? How could he have been so careless, so unprepared, so irresponsible?

He knew he wasn’t himself at night, let alone during the blood moon. He knew how dangerous it was to be outside. He knew he couldn't put his fellow hermits in danger-

"Run!" Zedaph managed to gasp again. Unconsciously, his left hand released the chest and reached for Impulse. He was seized by a moment of panic that his hand was about to grab Impulse and drag him closer- but his hand shoved Impulse backwards instead. Oh thank goodness, he was still in control. He didn’t know how much longer he would have control for.

Impulse stumbled back but he didn't run. Why wasn't he running? How could he be so _stupid_? Why was he just standing here, his mouth moving, saying something Zedaph couldn't hear with the rush of blood in his ears-

Zedaph’s breath hitched as the world turned as red; the blood moon rising to its highest point in the sky. Its influence over the world was absolute. Its energy washed over him, sharpening his senses and drawing him to his full potential.

It calmed him down. Took away the nerves that had seized him before. Gave him strength that overpowered his fears. His eyes fluttered close, taking a moment for himself, taking a moment to bask in the moonlight. Zedaph began to drift. He was losing his grip, losing his ground, losing his tether on his thoughts. He was floating so far away that someone else slipped in his place, stepped into his shoes.

A creature of the dark opened his eyes and the blood moon welcomed him with open arms. He had, after all, been born under the blood moon; a true son of the night. Why should he be ashamed of what he was? Why would he shun away from the blood moon? It was the time- it was his time- for celebration, for destruction, for death and dying.

He was powerful, and he was unstoppable.

His stomach growled. He allowed himself the luxury of inhaling the smell of the human's blood, standing right next to him, patiently awaiting his fate of death.

No, this one wasn't quite human. His blood didn't smell quite right. It was heavier than a human's, more concentrated than a human's, more magical than a human's. But, blood was blood, food was food, and he was _starving_. His gaze dropped to the non-human's pulsing jugular vein, inviting him to take a drink. His lips parted and he bared his full-length fangs, ready to tear through the thin layer of skin.

"Zedaph?" The non-human squeaked in a small voice.

"Zedaph?" he heard himself repeat. His voice was low, predatorial, ready to pounce. He laughed. "Zedaph's dead."

"What?" The non-human took a step back.

"Zedaph died a long time ago," he hissed, "I am **Death**."

"What's gotten into you, Zed?" the other non-human snapped as he approached. "Why are you guys just standing here?"

He sniffed. This one had no blood at all. These two were useless. There was no food here.

"His eyes are red, Tango," the first non-human whispered. “And- look! His teeth! He has-”

Without waiting for the conversation to end, he turned and ran.

At least some of these _hermits_ must be human.

There were other food sources waiting for him.

There were so many hermits; he was spoilt for choice. This was the first time he’s had so many options, so many _real_ options, not just animals or those dumb villagers and their disgustingly dull blood. He walked towards a brightly lit cluster of player-made buildings, taking his own sweet time, basking in the powerful moonlight. This was the first time in _years_ he had been allowed to roam free. Allowed to taste real blood. Allowed to carry out his instructions and act upon his commands.

There, in front of him, a wild hermit was hopping about between lines of shulker boxes. He seemed tensed, searching for something, yet somehow distractedly gazing at everything else around him, as though he didn’t really want to find what he was looking for. His sweater was the colour of blood. He was practically screaming to be a meal. It made Death smile.

Death stood in front of him, placing a hand over the shulker box Grian was about to open.

“Hi,” he greeted Grian, “how’s it going?”

"Oh my goodness," was Grian's response, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "Do you always sound like this?"

“I do,” Death affirmed. He reached out and rested his arm over Grian’s shoulders, pulling him closer. Grian allowed him to, and he angled his head closer to Grian’s neck and took a sniff- _ah._ The tantalizing scent of fresh human blood. “Do you always smell like this?”

“I… guess?” Grian pinched the front of his jumper and took a sniff at himself. “I smell normal, I think?”

“Normal is exactly how I like it,” Death purred, using his fingers to slant Grian’s head to the side, allowing more room for his fangs to comfortably sink in.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Grian stopped him, attempting to pull away. Death growled, deep in his throat, keeping the hermit in his grip. “What is this? Some kind of halloween prank? Why do you have fangs?”

“Why do you ask so many questions?” Death snapped, looking up and glaring at Grian.

Grian met his gaze and opened his mouth to say something else. Whatever he had planned to say died upon his tongue as he blinked back at Death slowly, once, twice- and his eyes unfocused. His jaw went slack, his head rolling back and exposing his neck.

Now that’s a good, obedient meal.

He had forgotten he had the ability to do that, to force compliance. It had been so long since he had drank from an actual human. Villagers never fought back.

He pulled Grian close and sank his fangs in, no hassle at all.

Oh, sweet blood. Sharp with its coppery tang, silky smooth on his tongue. He relished in the way his senses sharpened with every gulp. He had been _deprived_ for _so long_. There was nothing stopping him now, nothing preventing him from regaining his strength, from returning to his full power.

One human wasn’t enough. He threw Grian to the ground as his veins ran dry. Death gasped up at the blood moon and closed his eyes, power he’s never felt churning through him. His own veins were on fire, filled to the brim with sustenance. Raw, primal instincts, nothing holding him back. This was what being a vampire actually felt like. This was the gift that he had received when he was turned.

Powerful. Dominating. Unstoppable.

“Zedaph!”

Great. The two troublemakers were back to annoy him. Death contemplated snapping their necks with his own two hands, sending them back to respawn. But these hermits could fly. They would be back in no time. Entertaining them only wasted his time.

He stood up to leave just as Tango and Impulse swooped down and landed before him.

“No, Grian!” Impulse exclaimed in horror, keeping his elytra open and gliding towards Grian’s unmoving body on the ground. He landed on his knees and reached out to touch Grian, only for Grian’s lifeless body to dissolve into code, respawning safely somewhere else.

_Grian bled to death._

Impulse turned to look at Death with pained, conflicted eyes. “You killed him,” Impulse stated, and Tango whirled to face Death with an accusatory glare.

“He won’t remember what happened,” Death assured.

“That doesn’t make it any better!” Tango raised his voice. “Zed, you’re… you’re a…”

“I am _**Death**_ ,” he hissed at them again. “Zedaph is _**dead**_.”

“Why do you keep saying that?” Tango seemed upset.

“Even if you’re a… _vampire_ ,” Impulse said, the word ‘vampire’ difficult to vocalise, as though he didn’t want to believe it, didn’t want to ground it in reality, “...I’m sure there’s some sort of code to not just go around killing people for their… blood,” Impulse swallowed, then straightened in a show of mock confidence. “Right?”

Death allowed a wide smile to spread across his face. It unnerved both of them, Tango shifting his weight to his other foot, Impulse shrinking away where he knelt.

“Maybe,” Death said, “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never met another vampire. But I was commanded to cause death and I will obey my orders.”

“Who gave you these orders?” Tango grabbed Death firmly by his shoulder. “Were you turned into a vampire to be a killing machine? Why are you following these orders?”

“How have we never known?” Impulse whispered, more to himself than to add to the list of questions Tango had already asked.

“Zed, you can’t just, go around and kill hermits!” Tango continued, his voice rising higher, shaking Death hard with the hand on his shoulder.

“Why not?” Death mocked.

“Why not?!” Tango spluttered. “Aren’t they your friends?”

“This isn’t you, Zedaph!” Impulse added helpfully as he stood up.

“I’m NOT-” Death snapped again, irritated, ending his sentence with a growl instead. He was wasting time and energy on them. He shoved Tango’s hand off his shoulder and turned away, walking towards an unlit area. The forest next to the player builds would provide him with enough cover until he was able to source out his next victim.

“Zed!” Tango called after him. Their rockets fired in an attempt to catch up with and surround him, and Death took off into the trees instead. At his full strength, at his full speed, his feet barely touched the ground, a blur tearing between the trees. He was faster than rockets, faster than flight. Death smirked; they wouldn’t be able to find him with their fancy wings now. He could seek out his next victim in peace.

It was bold of him to assume that the hermits would not attempt to stop him. Tango and Impulse were being difficult enough, but other hermits tried to interfere with his affairs as well.

Rendog, for example, came swooping down from above the treetops and flew towards Death, possibly alerted by the other two's screaming and shouting ruckus.

"Zedaph!" Rendog exclaimed as he held a hand in front of him, hoping to hold Death back and skid him to a stop.

Instead, Death, faster than flight, was the one who brought on the forward momentum. Crashing into Ren, the impact shook Ren’s elytra wings out of place. It acted as a shark’s stuck dorsal fin, angled towards the ground as Ren fell backwards on them, dragging him roughly against the ground until Death slowed to a stop.

Ren crumpled to the ground with a groan, curling up into a fetus position. One of the elytra wings had bent inwards, metal slicing into his back, blood pooled heavy against the fabric of his shirt and dripping onto the ground. Ren turned his grimace up into a thin-lipped grin as he turned to look at Death.

Death’s eyes were blown wide as he stood still, watching the dark patch in the dirt grow with every drop of precious blood wasted into it.

"Hey, Zed, what's up? What's going on?" Ren asked.

"None of your business," Death hissed. He took a step towards Ren, falling to one knee and shoving Ren over so the injury on his back faced the night sky.

"OW, dude!” Ren complained. “You could’ve been gentle!”

Death snarled at the noises Ren made as he ripped off Ren’s shirt and pulled the broken elytra out with a swift motion. Why did humans like to talk so much? He could force Ren to keep silent, but there was no time to waste. Already the dripping flow of blood on his back was thinning, only sped up by the way Ren kept shifting on the ground. Death grabbed Ren’s limbs one by one, forcing them into the dirt, burying them firmly so he was just a fly strung up in a cobweb, helpless and unmoving, waiting to be eaten, waiting for Death.

_”Zedaph!”_ came Impulse’s voice from between the trees.

Death’s head snapped upwards in the direction of Impulse’s voice. Had they found him? Had he spent too much time here with Ren already?

_”Take this, Impy. Where’s your totem?”_

_”It’s right here.”_

_”We don’t know what Zed can do. Have you found him?”_

_”Um, I think he came through here…”_

“HE’S H-”

Death clamped his hand over Ren’s mouth.

_”Did you hear that?”_

_”No?”_

_”It was straight through there, loud and clear.”_

_”You know you can hear further than I can, right?”_

Death growled, looking down at Ren. Ren shook his head wildly, muffled yells beneath Death’s hand. Every shake was less vigorous than the one before, every yell weaker than the one before. Ren was losing blood, losing energy. He was of no use to Death. It was time to leave before the other two found him kneeling here: time to find a new source of food, get a little further away from Impulse and Tango, grow stronger with blood down his throat, not soaking the ground.

He could use Ren and his big mouth as a diversion tactic. Picking up the broken elytra, Death rammed it deep into Ren’s wound, pulled his hand away from Ren’s mouth and melted back into the darkness of the forest.

The desperate clutch onto life, the fighting spirit of humanity, the bloodcurdling scream of Ren’s - it made Death smile.

_Renthedog bled to death._

It didn’t take him very long to find his next victim. Xisuma had, after all, built his base in the middle of the forest.

Xisuma was just sorting through chests. He was concentrating so hard that he didn’t hear Death enter, he didn’t sense Death standing next to him, didn’t notice Death until he spoke.

“Xisuma,” Death greeted, leaning against the door, running out of patience.

Xisuma lifted his head from within the chest he was rummaging through. “Uhhh, what?” Xisuma looked left and right. “Hello?”

Xisuma caught sight of Death, and his surprise made him stumble backwards. Death smiled, his glorious fangs proudly extended and displayed.

“I am Death.”

“What? Zedaph? Since when did you-”

“Zedaph is **dead**!” Death growled. He took long strides towards Xisuma, who backed away further into the corner. “Get it into your _stupid_ little hermit head: Zedaph died when I was born!”

“Okay! Okay,” Xisuma tried to pacify, holding his arms in front of him as though it would prevent Death from stepping any closer. His visor lit up with scrolls of green text as he searched for… whatever he was looking for, whatever he was hoping his little admin abilities would save him from. “Stay right there, uh, Death, don’t come any closer. Let me just… look into your code…”

“I’m here to feed,” Death snarled, pushing Xisuma’s outstretched arms aside as he stepped closer to Xisuma, “and you can’t do anything to stop me.”

“How about this!”

The voice came from behind and Death ducked. An enchanted diamond sword came flying through the air, pinning itself into the wall right next to Xisuma’s head. Tango and Impulse landed in Xisuma’s base.

Death grabbed Xisuma and whirled around to use Xisuma as a human shield, both hands clutching Xisuma by his neck, fingers digging into Xisuma’s suit like strangling claws. Xisuma coughed and gasped, Death’s fingers cutting off his ability to breathe.

“He got to Xisuma before we could!” Impulse exclaimed, clear upset in his voice, turning to Tango.

“Put him down, Zed,” Tango commanded, the smallest tremble undercutting his firm voice. He didn’t enjoy what he was doing, didn’t like to tell people what to do, didn’t want to oppose his friend. His lack of resolution only made him _weak_.

Death sneered. He gripped the fabric of Xisuma’s impenetrable suit and ripped it apart, exposing Xisuma’s pale and vulnerable neck beneath.

Impulse gasped loudly, both hands flying up to cover his agape mouth.

Death shoved Xisuma’s head to one side and sank his fangs into his neck.

Xisuma was conscious as Death fed from him. He groaned and tried to struggle away but Death’s lowered grip around his waist was firm. His visor was still scrolling with green text and commands, still flashing with information, but Xisuma could do nothing about the information he was receiving. Every gulp from Death drained his energy quickly, his limbs hanging limp from the awkward way Death had him propped up. Xisuma could feel himself fading away.

Death pulled his fangs out of Xisuma’s neck, dropping the body next to his feet. He breathed heavily, lifting his gaze up to Impulse and Tango. Blood dribbled off his chin and he wiped it away with his sleeve. Xisuma's body twitched for a last time, then exploded into code and faded away.

_Xisuma bled to death._

The third death of the night, caused at his hands. A sacrifice to the blood moon. A nod of obedience to his own origins. Creating death satiated his thirst for blood, literally and figuratively. It satisfied the cruel urges driven deep in his nature.

_Are you done?_

The moon's influence over him was weakening, his own control of the body wavering as the night came close to an end. His two full meals tonight were enough to last him a month, at least. He wouldn't _need_ to feed again for a while, but he was sure the bloodlust would come knocking again soon. Blood was necessary for survival, but no one said he couldn't enjoy his meals, couldn't let the addictive properties of this power rush drive him to his next meal.

After all, he couldn't indulge himself in such a meal and expect no lasting consequences.

"Zedaph," Tango tried again.

Something twitched in response at the back of his consciousness, awoke from beneath the haze of instincts, started fighting to regain self-control.

Death grinned at Tango's and Impulse's helpless, disappointed expressions. He licked his fangs, still dripping with Xisuma's blood.

There was still time for one more meal.

Death trained his eyes on Impulse, who raised his arms in front of him in defense and took a startled step back.

Impulse might not be human, but he was still susceptible to the vampiric gaze. Death held eye contact, watching Impulse blink slowly - once, twice, his arms falling limply to his sides.

"Impy?" Tango realised what was happening, grabbing hold of Impulse as his legs bent over and gave way. Tango shook the dazed hermit hard, trying to wake him, shake him out of Death's hypnotic hold. "Impulse!"

That should hold the two annoying hermits back for a while.

Death picked up the elytra and rockets Xisuma's dead body had left spinning on the ground. He rocketed away, glancing at the blood red moon.

He had to hurry if he wanted another drink before the rational, nagging voice at the back of his mind overwhelmed his control.

The tall quartz base was an easy target.

"Mumbo," Death greeted as he landed gracefully at the edge of a platform.

Mumbo closed his chest to look at Death, and seemed more confused than afraid.

"You… look scary right now," Mumbo noted.

"I am Death."

"Pffftwhat?" Mumbo spluttered with a half-laugh, trying to chuckle his fears away.

Death didn't bother with anymore pleasantries. He didn't have the time to taunt his last victim or to enchant him into offering himself obediently. He was here for a swift kill, a quick meal, before he ran out of time.

He pounced. He reached out and grabbed Mumbo by the shoulders, knocking him onto the ground. He shoved Mumbo to the edge so Mumbo's head dangled off the platform, supported only by his neck, straining upwards to look at Death.

"Zedaph?! What is th-"

Death wrapped a hand around Mumbo's neck, causing him to choke on his own words. He leaned over Mumbo, snarling, making sure that Mumbo saw his fangs flashing in his face; made sure that Mumbo knew exactly who was responsible for his death.

"I. Am. _Death_ ," he hissed.

Mumbo spluttered as he tried to say something again.

Death pressed his other hand down on Mumbo's forehead, forcing his head downwards.

A sharp _crrrraaaaccckk_ and Mumbo lay still beneath him.

Death grasped the body and hugged an arm around the waist, propping it up against his knee and sinking his fangs into the soft flesh of his last victim.

He began to lap up the sweet life juice of the body, pausing at moments to pull back and lick the blood pouring from the wound instead. Mumbo's rush of fearful adrenaline at the end added so much _flavour_ to his blood, spicing it full of electrolytes like an energy drink. Death wished that he'd known about this earlier. He would have toyed with his two other victims a little more.

Gulp after gulp, Death held on desperately to the fading influence of the blood moon. He hoped that Mumbo's sacrifice would somehow give the moon the energy to stay- but he couldn't influence the moon; only the moon influenced him. He was but one of the moon's many created creatures, isolated and insignificant in the larger scheme of things.

The moon was leaving and his time was running out. He drank his sorrow away in the form of Mumbo's blood, focusing on the lingering buzz of power in his veins. His legs were numb from kneeling, his arms cramped from holding the same position. His thoughts were fuzzy, his mind hazy.

Someone had their hands on his shoulders, shaking him hard, grounding him back in reality. Another set of hands were prodding him, tugging his arms, pulling him away from the weight he was carrying.

" _Zedaph!_ "

Zedaph blinked. His senses were returning slowly. Why was Tango yelling at him? Why was Impulse pulling at him? Where was he? What was he carrying? What was he drinking with this tangy taste of iron, silky smooth down his throat, soothing his confusion, feeding his body with power- 

**-blood.**

Zedaph pulled his fangs out and released the body. He scrambled backwards, knocking into Tango, drawing himself as far away from the body as he could. _Mumbo_ , he recognized as the body toppled over the edge and fell. The base was so tall that Zedaph couldn't hear the thump of the body landing, but maybe it was just the rushing sound of everything else around him that muted Mumbo's fall.

Tango was still shaking him hard, stopped only by Impulse pulling Tango's hands off him.

"He's back," Impulse said in a low voice, and both of them turned to look at Zedaph.

Zedaph didn't return their gaze. His veins were still buzzing, his stomach satisfied and full, his mind swirling with a vortex of muddled memories, hiding from him what happened during the night.

How many people did he attack?

How many people has he hurt?

He pulled his fangs back, retracted his canines to a normal size. He drew his knees to his chest and hugged them. He inhaled shakily, then tried to exhale, but his breath caught in his throat.

"Oh, my goodness," was all he managed to whisper.

"Zed," Tango said, and Zedaph found himself wrapped in the embrace of his two best friends as he shook with his first sob.

Tango's black vest dampened as Zedaph cried into his shoulder, his position quickly replaced by Impulse because Tango didn't perform well with liquids. Tango settled behind Zedaph instead, rubbing his back kindly as Impulse wrapped Zedaph in a comforting hug.

"I am so sorry," Zedaph finally managed to say, sharp gasps of air between each trembling word. He kept his head down, his forehead pressed against Impulse's shoulder, as though afraid to look up and face them.

"Don't be," Impulse assured, "You couldn't control it."

"No," Zedaph swore, his voice firm with that single forceful word beneath tears streaming down his cheeks. "That _wasn't_ me."

"I kept calling for you," Tango added, "did you hear me?"

"I don't know," Zedaph whispered. "I don't remember what happened."

"Right, Death," Tango stated, and Zedaph shuddered at his name.

"Who... _is_ Death?" Impulse asked kindly.

Zedaph lifted his head slowly and looked at Impulse, his jaw clenched tight. He pulled his arms back from where they hung around Impulse's shoulders and pressed his trembling hands against the quartz floor instead; afraid they would move without him commanding them to, afraid of physically hurting Tango and Impulse.

"He's… vampire me," Zedaph told them, his voice quiet, as though he was ashamed of admitting it. "I mean… I'm a vampire, and I usually hold down the urges so well... but- there's just one day the instincts… take over, and that's during the blood moon." Zedaph swallowed. "The blood moon… I can't hold him back. I can't control him. He just takes over and I just-"

"-How have we never known?" Tango interrupted with a barking laugh. "You've been in Hermitcraft for over a year now!"

"Because someone always skips the night! Wels or Bdubs sleeping always skips the worst of the moon's call for me. And I'm usually so careful to keep track of blood moons, when I lock myself in or I set traps for myself, but I- I lost track of time. I forgot that the blood moon was coming up. How could I be so _stupid_! I had it written down and everything! I-"

"Zed, calm down," Impulse reached out and rested his arm across Zedaph's shoulders again.

Zedaph glanced sideways at Impulse and nodded, taking a deep, shaky breath. He lifted his arms and wiped away the tears with his sleeves, freezing for a moment when he saw the stain of blood slashed across one sleeve.

Whose blood was it? He could still smell it, whiffs of fresh blood teasing him, taunting him, making him shiver.

"Your eyes are still red?" Impulse informed, his statement turning into a question.

Zedaph looked up at Impulse, grateful for the interruption. "It must have dissolved," he muttered, more to himself than in response to Impulse. He reached out for an ender chest closeby and rummaged through it, pulling out a box of contact lenses and a fire resistance potion.

Impulse and Tango watched silently as Zedaph pressed blue contacts against his red eyes, blinking back at them with the familiar purple irises. He uncapped the potion and downed it in one gulp, making a face as he swallowed it.

"Never tastes any better," Zedaph remarked.

"It's for the sun," Tango realised, and Impulse glanced behind them at the rising sun, rays filtering through the levels of Mumbo’s base. "All the noob juice you drink, it was never in fear of falling into lava. It's so you don't burn in the sun."

"Yeah, well, good thing I like caves, huh?" Zedaph shrugged, forcing a grin on his face that didn't reach his eyes, dropping it quickly. He glanced back in his ender chest and pulled out a blood bag. "My emergency stash," he told them, keeping his eyes on the bag. "Chicken blood."

Chicken blood was just not as… exciting as the stain of _human_ blood on his sleeve. It didn't have the same springy taste. It didn't give him the same energy. God, how he wished he could replace his stock of chicken blood with human blood. How he wished he could get his hands on a sustainable source of human blood. _The hermits respawn immediately after death… **he could trap world spawn…**_

"Zedaph!" Tango's shout startled him, and Tango smacked the blood bag out of his hand. It fell back into the ender chest with a thump.

How could he even _think_ about hurting his friends? How dare he even consider them as food? He had no right to stake his claim on them, _even though he was higher up the food chain than they were…_

“Zedaph?” Impulse’s worried tone had Zedaph looking up at him.

His gaze flickered for a moment, a shadow passing through. His nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply, before he closed his eyes and shut the ender chest with a hand, leaning over it, letting it support his weight.

“Zed?”

“Sorry, I…” Zedaph exhaled, opening his eyes slowly. “How many people did he feed from?”

“He drained three people."

"Drained?" Zedaph echoed with a mix of disbelief and wonder, lifting his hands from the ender chest, looking down at them. He curled his fingers into a fist and opened them again, wriggling his fingers, testing their strength.

"It's affecting you?”

“Yeah,” Zedaph admitted quietly. “After a feeding frenzy like that, the bloodlust is going to... linger for a while. It’s a self-perpetuating cycle. Especially since… since I’ve never drank so much at once, and I’ve never tasted real human blood before…" He licked his lips unconsciously, instinctively. " _I still taste blood on my tongue…_ ”

Tango wrapped an arm around Zedaph’s shoulder and Zedaph looked up at him, purple eyes dark with a predatory glint; a warning, the first step into swirling, drowning thoughts that would be difficult to pull himself out of again.

“Did you know that you almost attacked Impulse?” Tango grinned, shaking Zedaph goodnaturedly, pretending not to see anything.

That helped to distract him; gave Zedaph a hand to hoist him out of the instincts that drew him away. Zedaph's eyes darted towards Impulse, holding eye contact even as his head shook in refusal, his mind fighting his body. A sharp sniff of the air-

Zedaph exhaled in relief, tension leaving his muscles, instincts losing its grip over him. It helped so much that the two people he spent the most time with could never be mistaken as food.

“I wouldn’t. He’s not human," Zedaph stated with a cheery smile and friendly eyes that were not about to pounce.

Impulse frowned, only half-kidding as he put on an 'offense taken' expression. “I think _I_ would know if I weren’t human,” he retorted.

“He just means you’re not tasty enough for him,” Tango mocked, and Zedaph laughed in glee.

“Hey!” Impulse shoved Tango, causing him to release Zedaph and stumble back with a loud shout.

“You’re disgusting, Impulse!” Zedaph added with a delighted yell, already running away from Impulse before Impulse could start chasing him around Mumbo’s base.

Tango and Impulse shared a glance of relief as Zedaph's boisterous and genuine laughter bounced off the curved walls, before Impulse took off after Zedaph.

"Come back here!!"

END

**Author's Note:**

> Zedaph is missing this Halloween on Hermitcraft because he’s moving,,,,,, or is he just skipping the full moon????? _Insert narrowed eyes emoji_
> 
> 00FFFF wrote this amazing wereren story a while back and recently he was brainstorming some new ideas for the continuation of this series and I got really invested in the plot and I was like hey,,,,, could I write some stuff for this amazing series and he said yes and I’m?????? so honoured to bring yall the start of our Out Of Moonlight world?????? We have big plans coming up and I'm so excited.
> 
> Please let me (us!) know what you thought!


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